The last of the Windwards

Two looming pinnacles jutting from the sea just off our port bow signalled our arrival into St Lucia. As we had to clear in, we decided not to stay within the twin towers of the Pitons and instead chose a mooring ball just off the lovely little bay of Soufriere in the shadow of Petit Piton (although really not that petit!).

Captain Bob was the first boat boy to accost us and so we requisitioned his services to hand us the mooring buoy and advise on which buoys were more secure. Might I add, we had to pay the park for the ball as well as donate EC$20 to Bob's cause for the sole benefit of him handing us a mooring line. This could have also been due to the fact that we had no change and slight relief that Captain Bob was nothing like the guys offering a similar service in St Vincent where we had just come from!

The name Soufriere meaning sulphurer stems from the volcanic activity in the region, some of which is still apparent today. Captain Bob offered us a tour of the island and keen to check out the geology and volcano in action we accepted – this being our first island tour we have been on whilst in the Caribbean.

9am the next morning Captain Bob picked us up from Orion and dinghied ashore handing us over to our driver for the day, Martin. Sulphur Springs was first on the itinerary, touted as being the world's only drive in volcano. We opted for the volcanic mud bath rather than stare at some steam coming out of the ground. Donning our speedos we leapt into the 38 degree pool of black, rotten egg smelling volcanic waters. We joined the only other person there, an enigmatic German who proclaimed he couldn't speak English yet was pretty good at explaining all the different facets of how to have a volcanic mud bath. Smearing white grit over my face, Edward assured me this was good for lady's skin. Dylan got stuck in with the bucket of thick mud, smearing the liquid all over himself until he resembled one of the locals then doing the same for me. With the water temperature being close on 40 degrees and the air temperature being fairly close, it wasn't a place to linger for long so after a few minutes the mud had dried, we posed for some photos like a pair of minstrels then washed off in a lovely FRESH water shower. The mud had become engrained deep in our pores so no amount of scrubbing got it off, we walked away from the springs a blue /grey colour.

Next destination was the Botanical Gardens with the Diamond Falls via a view point where we could look down on Orion on her mooring. The gardens were beautiful but we couldn't really appreciate the fauna having no idea what any of the plants were. Made a great photo opportunity nonetheless. Right by Diamond Falls there were more hot water baths although we were pleased to discover that these were fresh, clean water. Accepting any opportunity to submerge ourselves in fresh water, we donned our now soggy mud encrusted speedos and lolled around like hippos.

We met some interesting people along the way. Our best was Pascal the calabash carving Rastafarian paddle skier. We just had to buy one as he was such a great character! He came paddling over calling out to us. It was late in the afternoon and he had done an entire trip around Soufriere and probably the Pitons too on his wanked out kayak that looked about the same age as him. He was was fit as a fiddle. We got chatting to him as he showed us a calabash in its pre carved form along with all his wares. We asked him about Rastafarian ways keen to understand what it means to be a Rasta. 

Having seen the sights around Soufriere, we headed to Marigot Bay as we had heard rave reviews. Using Dylan's expression, we found it most 'underwhelming'. Sure there were some superyachts to look at but the anchoring was in a small patch on the outside of the channel, no anchoring in the bay and so boat traffic rocked us back and forth 24/7. On top of that, there was nothing to see or do ashore and the water visibility was awful with no fish in sight. A tacky village had been built to please the tourists with countless boutiques selling souvenirs and ice cream, needless to say we didn't venture into any. We found out our friends on Mimi were in Rodney Bay and also another french cat had anchored right on our bow so we figured it was time to move on up the coast after only a day!

Two hours later we were anchored in Rodney Bay. A much nicer anchorage due to the huge space meaning no yachts in close proximity and no neighbours in peeing distance from your cockpit. Having already cleared out in Marigot Bay, we only had one night left in St Lucia so quickly secured the boat and dinghied into the marina to see Mimi.

Dylan rather worse for wear the next morning due to Keith's generous rum pouring (he doesn't learn does he Marcey?!) we awoke at 6am and headed for Martinique – Dylan fed the fish a few times on that passage and learnt a valuable lesson about grogging the night before a sail. Don't do it!

We had planned to spend only a night in Martinique as a stop over so we didn't have to do a night passage. This fits in with our plan of 'fast up, slow down'. Therefore I cannot really give an opinion of this country yet having only experienced the supermarket ashore (which was expensive but they had a fantastic selection of french cheeses!) and the walk to and from customs. Although the country is french speaking and currency is euro, we were able to get by using no french although maybe this will be different when we visit the main towns in Martinique on the way back down. St Pierre where we stopped was devastated by Mount Pelee volcano erupting in 1902, a lot of the ruin is still evident today. It gave the sleepy fishing village a quaint charm taking in the derelict buildings and apparent poverty of the local people who are appear in true Caribbean style content in their situation.

Feeling like we were on a continuous see saw ride the minute we anchored, we were more than happy to move on the next morning to Dominica, the country of 365 rivers!

Do you speak whale?

Down in the galley making tuna mayo sandwiches, sweating profusely and trying to angle my dripping forehead into the fan for some relief– I hear an excited yell from Dylan who was in the cockpit. Thinking he may be showing me my 200^th flying fish which still seem to fascinate him – I begrudgingly put down the knife and headed for the companionway.

Putting my foot on the first rung of the ladder, I realise that this may be more than the humble flying fish he is looking at as when I catch his expression, he looks like he has almost peed his pants.

Following his gaze towards Martinique coastline, not more than 400 metres from our starboard quarter is a humongous whale shooting out of the sea like a missile emerging from its underground silo. The gnarled white fins clearly visible in the midday sun, the pod of humpback whales continued to give us a fantastic display of acrobatics as a further 2 more whales breached the surface, each one going higher than the previous.

Quite overwhelmed with this fairly rare natural occurrence taking place right before our eyes, we were speechless. After the fourth breach I rushed down to get the camera, eager to take a video. Unfortunately that was enough for today, the whales didn't resurface except for the occasional spouting of water we could spot in the distance.

Luckily I have a photographic memory so shall be replaying that experience over and over again in my head for years to come. Having seen killer whales in San Juan islands and now the humpback whale in the Caribbean, we are keen to see the blue whales to complete the collection!

Singing in the rain...

Just after we arrived in Marigot Bay and some French charter boat plonked itself on top of our anchor chain, did it start to rain. This is the dry season we were told, however we had a great squall.

Lovely warm tropical rain pelted the anchorage. We are not inside Marigot Bay as it is too exclusive for us. At $30 USD a night for a mooring ball, we will anchor outside and peer in like paupers at the window of an overpriced confectioner.

There are beautiful yachts inside the bay. Absolutely, pants wetting with excitement, beautiful yachts.

Back to the rain...It came in fast and heavy. We barely had time to react. Soon the anti rain cover for the V berth hatch was inverted to become a quasi rain catcher with a bucket underneath. Sally and I were in our costumes dancing around the deck. Buckets in hand, catching rain like it was some sort of liquid gold.

After giving the deck a quick scrub, we were damming tributaries and catching water in buckets. We had just switched over to the starboard tank earlier that day, so port tank was opened up and bucket after bucket was decanted.

At £1 per 4 litres (price in Union Island) it is well worth catching your own rain. Also good practise for when we go to areas where water is scarce or even more expensive!

Port tank is almost full. We are refreshed after a fresh water shower. Dinghy is full of fresh (ish) water that we will use for dish washing and body washing. We are still finding volcanic mud on our extremities...

Good times, good times!   

Why do people buy Catamarans...

Quite simple really. They are perfect charter / entertainment vessels.

I have always been a monohull kinda guy. Sneered at people who needed twice as many hulls as me. However I have changed my mind.

Now don't get me wrong. Nothing can part me from my little 30 year old Tartan as she ticks all my boxes, but what I am saying is that I can now see why people buy cats.

They are perfect for this sort of inter-island sailing in the Caribbean. We have met a number of people with cats and been on board a few and been very impressed.

They are so roomy! There is a huge cockpit, galley, saloon and deck space. These are generally the areas where your average person spends most of their waking time.

The easy access to the sea from the twin transoms with stairs to the water are very useful (especially if you are a retiree with a gamy hip etc).

One couple mentioned they like their cat as it gives them family and privacy at the same time. They bundle the family into one hull and they stay in the other and only meet in the middle when they want to see each other. 

They don’t roll as much as monohulls either and some anchorages can be kinda rolly. They are also very shallow draft (most are even shallower than our Orion's 4'3” (Centreboard up...) and can nip into the shore at close quarters.

Loads of charter vessels are cats. The whole group of pasty little geckos crowd around the cockpit of these fat party boats and have a great time.

We know that they are having a great time as while I write this post some european skipper has parked his cat on top of my anchor chain (again), sphincter tighteningly close to our pullpit and the group are have a load of laughs. We can hear ever word, but don't speak nor understand Napoleon.

So then me thinks to me self...why did I go for a Monohull. There are only 2 of us on board. If we did loads of entertaining and had visitors all the time then a cat might be a better choice, however we don't. Light displacement vessels like cats don't have the same load carrying capabilities as an equivalent monohull.

The wind has been on our nose most of our journeys and cats have been racing past us, much to my dismay. But it is easy to out point a monohull with twin screws sitting at 2200 revs and the main sheeted tight. Cheating if you ask me! (as we pound into 18knots with just a jenny out).

But cats can't point. 45 degrees apparent is about the best these beasts can do. So they don't. They either wait for a decent breeze or motor sail between islands. 

Being a bit of a purist, I prefer to sail even if it means a slightly uncomfortable beat.

But, with having twin hulls, you have twin engines. Multiple heads (some of them up to 4 heads!).

This means multiple times the amount of maintenance than our MONOhull. As ours is MONO most things!

They also cost more to haul out the water, more to store on the hard. But they have lighter / smaller rigs as they have less displacement...

Good quote from a website i found..."Choosing your monohull is like choosing your car. If you ‘re choosing a vehicle to go cross country, towing a trailer with amenities, you choose a big, rugged, 4 WD, heavy vehicle. For in town, something small and light and easy to handle. No one boat does it all, monohull or multihull. You have to decide on your priorities. Traditional good looks. Resale value. Appeals to the traditionalist, though some of the latest crop of monohulls could leave you wondering. There are more people that identify with monohulls and more of a mass market. Multihullers are making progress. This has been the fastest growing segment of the sailboat market for the last couple of years."

If I was going chartering with a group of friends or even my extended family, I would seriously consider a cat. 

For cruising and potentially crossing oceans, I will take Orion!

Caribbean bus music...

We have heard this song played repetitively in pretty much ever bus we have taken. Mostly it is played at 97 decibels. I must admit it is kinda catchy albeit I don't have a clue what most of the words are.

Tommy Lee - Some Bwoy (yes, that means Some Boy).

Try reading the comments if you want a bit of a tongue twisting puzzle in deciphering the "English" language.

Paradise

I write this as I sit in the cockpit of our lovely little Tartan 37. We have just completed our longest passage to date. A whole 42 miles. It took us 8 hours to complete but included a few hickups along the way. It is a breathless anchorage and we circle our mooring boy like 2 boxers sussing each other out.

I have a large rum and coke in my hand and the gas braai is ticking over on the transom with chicken breasts grilling away smothered in banana ketchup (a local sauce we are trying for the first time).

We are in Soufriere, in the shadow of Petite Piton. The pitons (a set of two tall volcanic peaks) guided us to St Lucia as they were the first things we saw as we crossed the expanse between St Vincent and St Lucia.

The sun has just set over the horizon and we watched it give us a final wink before slinking below the horizon ready to pounce on us in 12 hours time. See you soon, Mr Sun!

It was yet another beautiful sunset. A menagerie of colours, vivid and clear in evening sky.

Life is pretty damn good. It certainly is.

We are on a mooring buoy in Soufriere as most of this region is a national park and anchoring is not alllowed. This is probanbly just as well, as this island emerges from the depths like a Kraken in Pirates of the Caribbean. I cannot see the bottom although I can track the mooring line fairly deep. The depth sounder reads 50 feet. I am always a little nervous picking up a mooring ball. I was reviewing one in Wallilabou yesterday and found that most of the outer wires of the mooring line had worn through leaving just the core to hold the boat in place...fortunately the wind prevails from the shore and the stern line is the main line.

We are in our third country now. What a great achievement for two people who did not even own a boat, let alone did a lot of sailing together not more than 8 weeks ago...

We are off on a tour tomorrow to see the waterfall and volcanic hot springs etc. Looking forward to it.

Cheers, let the adventure continue!

Wallilabou and the Boat Boys

Approaching Wallilabou we were looking out for a radio mast on the shore, knowing that just after that was our chosen anchorage in St Vincent. About 2 miles off our destination we could start to see how green and luscious the coastline was, taking in the spectacular scenery the ambience was ruined by 2 big cigarette boats speeding towards us. Putting down my camera (in case they fancied it for themselves) we awaited their arrival. A boat on our starboard side arrived first asking us if we were going to Wallilabou bay. Having read Doyle's guide prior to leaving, we were aware these guys could be pushy to the point of aggressive and so tried to shrug them off by being vague and saying we would meet them in there if we needed assistance. That didn't seem to work and no sooner had we explained that to the first boat, the second boat came to port side trying to get our attention. We shrugged off one boat and continued on, where around half a mile out, another boat boy came rowing towards us and started getting into a rage. Now these guys apparently speak English but unfortunately we couldn't understand a word they were saying apart from the expletives littered throughout their conversation. Turns out the first boat boy had promised the second that the next yacht to approach the bay would be 'his' to assist. Not playing game the two boats started getting into a slanging match with us in the middle and the second boat boy then proceeds to jump into our dinghy (that we were towing behind) and tow his boat complete with child of around 10 years old. From observation the more affluent guys have the freshly painted boats with 15HP engines whilst the poorer guys have only oars for propulsion. I did feel for the guy who had no motor on his boat so must have rowed the entire way out but on the other hand, he was being rude, aggressive and extremely intimidating. Remember at this point in time, we hadn't given our custom to either party! We tried to ignore the commotion as best we can (when we had 2 adult males yelling at each other) and puttered into the bay eyeing up the mooring balls to find a good spot.

On sussing out the situation we realised we would need a hand with the 'parking' as we needed to attach the bow to a mooring line at the same time as manoeuvring in a tight space and securing a stern line to another mooring ball 100 feet away. Deciding to go with Winston (“no problem man”) that showed no animosity towards us, we asked him to secure our stern line ignoring the crazy guy we towed telling us how unfair life was. By this point I was most fed up with their behaviour and thought if I went below and waited it out...they may just disappear (ostrich.....sand). No such luck, no sooner had we killed the engine, 4 more boat boys arrived, sticking their heads into our cockpits and banging against our hull. Now I realise these guys need to make a living but when all they offer is a hand to tie a line you start to lose respect for them. If they had made something or were offering fresh fruit then I would happily give them money. The crazy guy was still in a rage, eyes wide with anger filling the quiet bay with his woes when he declared he was thirsty and could we possibly get him a glass of water. I was in no mood to provide him with anything and so went for the cold shoulder approach but after a further 10 mins of repeating his plea we caved in and I went down below to get 2 glasses of water, one for him and one for the young boy with him. The crazy guy downed it in one and when Dylan gave the second glass to the young kid, the kid replied 'F*CK YOU'!! I tell you, we made quite an entrance into this anchorage!!!! I just wish I had videoed it as that situation has to be seen to be believed.

Taking a philosophical stance on the experience, you can see that there is little for the locals to do to make money here with incoming yachts seen as a prime source of income. Unfortunately there are so many guys all competing for the same service and as such it has turned sour. This aggressive attitude will certainly make us think twice about returning which is such a shame as it really is a lovely place to visit. If only they could organise themselves and regulate the service similar to what Bequia have done it would encourage a larger volume of yachts to frequent the town as a port of clearance. Dylan tried to explain this to them, attempting to improve their 'service' but any suggestions were met with indifferent grunts. Aaah well, you win some you lose some.

After Dylan had stopped simmering and all boat boys had been dealt with, we dinghied ashore to clear out of customs as they only open from 5pm! Wallilabou was the set for Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest and so everywhere you go there are props, storyboards and pictures from the movie. Wary of the aggressive boat boys and after a few spates of theft recently, as soon as the sun started to set, we headed back to Orion to guard her for the evening. Thankfully this effort was in vain as we had no trouble and a peaceful nights sleep with the exception of the party boat next to us who decided that 1am was the perfect time to go swimming and blast out a bit of Jessie J.